


Containment Breach: Libido Gladio

by psytronix



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Anal Sex, Corruption, Corruption Goddess, Domination, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Gijinka, Horror, Hyperspermia, Other, Reality Bending, Rule 63, Sex Goddess, Submission, Transformation, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psytronix/pseuds/psytronix
Summary: Beset by one of the most calamitous breaches in Foundation history, a lone D-Class survivor finds a generous reality-bender, who seeks to morph the site to suit her goals. He seems to be the one she's looking for.
Relationships: Benjamin Oliver Walker | D-9341/Original SCP Character(s) (SCP Foundation), Benjamin Oliver Walker | D-9341/SCP-106, Benjamin Oliver Walker | D-9341/SCP-1162, Benjamin Oliver Walker | D-9341/SCP-173
Comments: 21
Kudos: 26





	1. The Breach

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all should investigate SCP-173 art by tsuyomayo.

_Grey._

He awoke to darkness, to a hum of electrical energy, coursing through his cell's walls. To the creaking of the aging pipes, the ratty old toilet and the leaking sink. In 10 minutes, the lights would flash on - and a new day would begin. _Lighter sentencing_ , they told him. _A chance to serve your country,_ they said.

How did this serve anyone?

His "work" involved waking at 6AM every day, cleaning the chamber of an animate rebar sculpture - a _misanthropic_ sculpture, at that. Piss and shit and blood would greet him - if his fellow D-Class didn't blink during their janitorial escapades. After that, if someone hadn't been _murdered_ by that stony stalker, they would eat their allotted first meal of the day. If the day truly began, that was - it'd been a while since he'd seen sunlight. They would then be at the mercy of the site guards - escorting them to a bumbling fool of a scientist.

Sometimes they'd be testing those _things_ , SCPs, others, they run from them. Sometimes they were shot, clean in the back of the head, when they broke. And sometimes, when they hadn't broke yet.

Meal 2 followed that little site-wide tour. Then, depending on the day of the week, it'd be a visit to another one of the creature's cells. He would grow envious at the amenities provided to the abnormal, to the anomalous. When a necromantic man of medicine would receive _cheese_ , and _pork_ , where all he'd eat was a nutrient paste, _well…_

It made him wonder, because he truly couldn't remember; what had he done to deserve this? He remembered flashes, niggling little sparks of a life before this one, before he'd been cast into the bowels of the earth to slave in a tartarus, bleak and unending. He was told he had killed. Tortured. Raped. Alongside all those with him. The videos they watched, meant to habituate and pacify them, repeated as much.

_You are here because you are a threat to society. They are here because they present a far, far worse threat than you._

Those videos took place before meal 3 - and then, after that, it was lights out. No wall too thick could muffle the cries of his fellow inmates, and nothing could stem the _impact_ of their concrete tomb - it's writhing oppression and sheer domination of will. He was told by this month's guard that "sooner or later, they all drop", and for a while, he believed that. He stopped fraternising after his meal-buddy committed suicide via blinking. He stopped _speaking_ when the oldest of them all, D-1940, simply _donned a fucking mask_.

Everyone dropped. Everyone but _him_. He was beginning to think of where he came from - if the flashes were a holdover from stories he'd overhear, or whether he was _birthed_ by this very facility. Had he lived a life at all, or was it merely a trick of the drugs they fed them? Had he been in this place before - pouring over documents? Why did they look at him oddly - the scientist, the guards? Black, _and white?_

Sighing, rising, and washing his face with some tap water, he prepared for his day, staring into the dark mirror. The only light he had was from the dim red glow of the emergency lights, which lit up a retroreflective patch on his jumpsuit.

"D-9341," he muttered. He tried the names "Nines", "Dave", "Forty", "Three-Hunj", but none fit. They were not _him_.

Set to his fate, the D-Class stood at the back of his cell, like he had done for one hundred days. He counted the seconds in his head - waking 10 full minutes prior to the lights coming back on. Every day. At minute 5, he felt his stomach drop as the humming stopped. No power. The emergency lights were still on, but fading. The cells remained shut. Eerie.

30 seconds later, a new hum began. Weaker, quieter - their backup generator? He noticed no fluorescent buzzing coming from outside his cell - but heard different things. Skittering, groaning - the shifting of stone over stone, creaking metal, settling dirt. A scream - male. Another, cut short, and a thud. Crying, _so much crying_.

3 minutes of silence passed. The pipes warbled again, as the cell next to him flushed it's toilet. The sounds of retching were clear, even through that cold concrete. He felt every muscle tense, his heart pounding in his ears, his throat running _dry_ as he continued counting - 1 minute and 30 seconds to go.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Black. Tock. White. Tock. Tick. Tock. Black. Tock. White. Tock._

_Grey._

The site's intercom blared with static as the door opened on it's own, hydraulic locks releasing. Those fluorescent tubes lighting the halls of the D-Class cells turned themselves back on - and once he gained the will to move, he took cautious steps out. Adrenaline slowly pumped it's way through his veins as he noticed the cell doors - some torn open, and others, cleanly sealed. No pattern to it.

He thought of calling out. For a guard, for a fellow inmate, but decided against it. There had been a _breach_ , that much he could garner. Blood trailed from his cellmate's doors all the way to the entrance of the D-Class block. With nowhere else to move, and with no sound of backup nearby, he swallowed a lump in his throat, sighed, and strode forward. Exiting his cell, he found more grey, more light tubes, more clean, sterilised ceramic and concrete, _painted_ with blood, blackness. Notes were tossed around the place, as were bullet casings and bullet holes.

_How long had it been like this?_

He could hear people again - didn't sound like any of the D-Class, perhaps a guard? He followed - they were calm, reassuring, voice stern and kind all the same, until it broke, until the screams began again. Until they were cut short, rendered _mute_. D-9341's pace quickened as he found a hall that looked slightly different from all the others - and searched the rooms for _anything_ \- a keycard, a bottle of water, a ration pack, _something_ he could hold onto and focus his attention on.

In a messy office, he found a research assistant's card, still warm to the touch. He also found a cup, half full, and drank of the clear liquid - spitting out once realising it was straight vodka. Upon second consideration, he imbibed the remainder of the drink, shivering, and set back out, swiping a bottle of half-gone pills from a nearby shelf.

Upon entering the hall once more, he came to a deep square room - his current walkway elevated above a series of desks. He had left the doors open behind him - but upon coming to this place, the ones in front and behind _slammed_ shut, as if thrown closed by an outside force. He panicked.

The lights cut out, and came back on within a second. Before him, he noticed something strange, a red line, _floating in midair._ It had tendrils - flowing back and forth, connecting to things. One was connected to him, and following the line of the others, he saw bodies on the ground, unmoving. His throat locked up in shock as the line grew larger, bending and breaking at odd spots.

Suddenly, spewing dark, effluvial mist from it's maw, it _opened_. And as it opened, he felt his jumpsuit _tighten_. Blood flushed to his nethers as a hundred moaning throats rocketed a sound towards him, pouring forth from the tear in reality. At its bottom, and dripping down its sides, he saw a puddle of something _sticky_ and _sweet_ smelling, pooling slowly. As the tear grew wider, _taller than him_ , he skidded back a step, before being _locked_ in place.

From those singing spaces - that area between reality and _wherever the fuck that portal led_ \- stepped out a leg. Flesh, dark, _tantalising_ \- _naked,_ too. At the ankle was a single gold chain, wrapped loose. A hand, smooth and soft, gripped the edge of the portal, carrying out the rest of the figure.

She was beauty.

It was a woman, or rather, something _womanly_. Her eyes were black, perhaps a very dark red, and her presence exuded an aura of something _hot_. Her chest, arms and legs showed great muscle - and even greater power beyond them. Her breasts seemed to _jiggle_ with each step she took out of that portal - easily bigger than her head. Her sex, clear to the world as it was, was trimmed neatly, a slim, hairy triangle pointing downwards. Across her entire body were scribbles - upon closer inspection, _words,_ ancient and eldritch.

D-9341 felt the need to tear his clothes off - to _bow_ before this being, to give his body to her. He was kept still, standing, by _her_ , it felt. It was an eternity before his eyes snapped upwards - meeting hers again. She grinned. And neared. And met his lips with hers, her fullness enveloping him - penetrating him. He moaned, feeling his whole body _shiver_ with unabashed delight. His dick twitched against his suit, and with one fell sweep of her hand, it was removed from him, tossed to the moistened ground.

Her tongue invaded his mouth - making his space _hers_. She mewled into their embrace, hugging him, squishing his hard body to her gentle, nubile form. Her breasts pressed against him, nipples arcing an electric _jolt_ to his now limp body, zapping all the way to his quaking balls. He came, came, and _came_ until he couldn't cum again, spilling his speed onto the floor. And, just when he felt the _true_ meaning of the word "spent", she stopped - pulling her tongue from his mouth, and layering a kiss to his quivering neck. As she parted, he felt her saliva _burn_ him, in an oh-so-wondrous way. He _whimpered_.

"I'm glad I found you," she uttered, her voice affecting him such that his cock jetted another rope of jizz. It was so _deep_ and _husky_ and _sensual_ , inhuman in a grand way, almost _too_ perfect to hear.

"You're going to be something special," she giggled, _beaming_ at him, "with my mark, you'll do beautiful things. Make right this suffering world, be the Phal to this site's _Yon_ \- or, in your tongue…"

She brought his head between her breasts, hugging him closer, kissing his scalp with tender, loving _glee_. She even chortled as she felt him _shake_ against her, cock still spurting his seed with every hump.

"...You'll _fuck_. You'll _fuck_ until every hole of every creature here is _sore_ , and then, once they've reached their limit, you'll keep going. Until you've fixed me a gaggle of broken, beautiful and buxom matrons - reaped from their anomalous prisons."

His breathing hitched, and he tried _so hard_ to stop himself as she mentioned those haunting words - trying to reel his mind back, to gain some semblance of control back over his body. But she commanded him, pried him from her beautiful form, his eyes _glued_ to her callipygian rear as she sashayed away.

"W-w-wait!" he called, "W-Will I see you again? Who are y-"

She put a finger to her lips, shushing him, and blew a kiss his way. The same gas that escaped her dimensional tear pittered from her mouth in that sensual, _adoring_ kiss - fluttering it's own way to him. Once the gas touched his lips again, her name broke into his ears with a thousand whispers - each nipping at his earlobe, gently _cooing_.

 _Queen_. _Imperatrix._

Her ass was the last thing he saw before she disappeared beyond her veil - her seeds of whorish delight sown for the reaping. D-9341 was stunned, jaw on the floor at the sight of the woman, and quickly fought off a huge depression in her wake. He reigned himself in, striking his chest once, _twice_ , and returned his own breathing to normal. He blinked, trying to make sense of what the _fuck_ just happened, and took note of the portal's fluids, his own cum, and his torn jumpsuit, all on the floor.

Was this a dream? Should he wake himself up? Or had he been tricked, deluded and insane from all his time spent underground? If this truly was an illusion, or a dream - was there a point in waking from the experience he just had? He had to know - had to _check_ , somehow.

His cock _throbbed_ at the thought of her again, but he stopped it - focussing on checking himself before doing anything else. Finding glass on the walls of the walkway, he put his fingers to the burning spot on his neck, and inspected. Glowing red, and _pulsing_ with a furious, lusty energy, was a kiss-mark, like lipstick left on a lover. It brought him an odd sense of comfort - a _drive_ , and only confused him further. D-9341 quickly remembered his briefing after that - curious if he was still under the spell of a mind-manipulator, or reality-bender - and tried putting one hand through the other.

It hit.

That was _his jizz_ on the floor, and there was a keen, sweet wetness where the portal had been, seconds ago.

Her mark, _the Queen's_ mark, still remained.

So what in the _fucking hell_ was the inspiration for her goal, here? Why him? By creatures, did she mean the humans still alive, the SCPs, or _both?_ He asked these questions to himself as he found a stairway leading down from the platform, keeping his eyes off the bodies. All the while, he noticed his cock was still _rock-hard_ , dribbling with ample pre. His balls quaked every other second, as if building a stockpile of his essence for their next encounter - as if anticipating something he had _no idea was coming_.

He stopped as he heard a familiar noise. A _horrifyingly_ familiar one.

And then, he blinked.

His heart nearly fucking _stopped_ as that creature appeared before him in a sound of scraping stone and metal - but all was not right with it's form. It, now likely influenced by the reality-bender's presence, was another _she_. He leapt backwards, and got a _good_ , long, unbroken look at what was once SCP-173. The sudden movement, and it's sudden stoppage had had a rippling effect on the being's _flesh_.

It was as if the being had been crafted out of tissue anew - like a quickening and enticing body made for the adolescent male fantasy. It's breasts jiggled still, recoiling from the lightning-fast movement, quaking from it's wide nipples to it's chest. It's belly, _tummy_ , was soft looking - heavily curved and rounded, and it's ass shook with earth-breaking weight. D-9341 _swore_ he could hear the flesh slap against itself with the jiggle - sounding a touch softer than the rebar and concrete it'd been cut from earlier.

It's face, now truly a face, was nothing short of gorgeous - though _nothing_ would compare to the succubus that had touched him just moments ago. It's hair was as grey as the stone it was made from, with red markings in it's bangs - and striking, though vacant green eyes. It looked angry - following him wherever he went. Eyes still wide open, he controlled his breathing, hand roaming to his cock as he poured over her body again, moaning with anticipation.

The sane, rational part of his brain that said " _avoid the neck-snapping golem_ " was quickly quieted by the much louder voice saying " _ **obey your Queen**_ ". _You'll fuck_ , she said - so his loins guided him. Toying with the SCP, he backed up a few metres more, and blinked, clutching his chest as she snapped towards him, gigantic jugs jiggling with joyous force - asscheeks _slapping_ against the other with agonisingly arousing sound. Energised, he strode towards it - _her_ \- circling.

With his whole body _trembling_ , he slammed his hand down upon the fat of her butt, marvelling at every warble and wobble of that _soft_ flesh. It even reached down all the way to her thighs - her _dripping, moistened thighs_. Upon closer inspection, he noticed her pussy - puffy and _pleading_ to be penetrated, was lubricating, moistening constantly - like the Imperatrix's portal had been before.

He swore he could've heard her breath seize then - upon her cunt being scrutinised! Was she… alive?

That knowledge, that _question_ \- even if he had _made the sound up himself_ \- brought a smirk to his face. He rose from his crouched view of her hot cunny, and brought his hand down upon her cheeks again - slapping, _harder and harder_ , a sick revenge for all she had killed. All the while, he kept his eyes open, focussed, like a _beast_. His cock was responding to the jiggling, quivering, _juicy_ stimuli with glee, spurting more and more pre as the Sculpture took her punishment.

With no further pretense, feeling his eyes dry a bit, he skidded back a few metres, and blinked. The sheer force of her speed and the displacement of the air would've knocked the oxygen from his lungs - if his face hadn't been buried by her buxom bosom. He struggled, eyes snapping _up_ instantly, so she'd stop _wiggling_ against him. She _was_ alive! Her expression had changed - with a harsh blush tinging her _soft_ cheeks, and tears, now dripping down them.

If she was angry before, she was pissed now. Pressing his head against her sternum, he managed to slip from her grip - taking note of her hands' stance - perfectly positioned to keep his head in place. Heart quickening, he controlled his breathing, before backing up again - ignoring the rapturous and horrified _moans_ coming from the connecting halls. D-9341 took a moment to think on what the _fuck_ was going on and what the _fuck_ he was doing because of it. He thought again - _am I going to have sex with this thing… With her?_

Before he could reign in his cock, his libido, his mark began to _burn_. It didn't hurt, but it set his dick _alight_ , tingling, _yearning_ for a compatible heat, a _hole to fuck_. With renewed, arcane resolve - now firing through him, he followed his todger, shambling towards the Sculpture. He came from behind her again, caressing the soft of her back, hands roaming and groping and _squeezing_ that ass of hers. It was _intoxicating_ \- he had to stop himself from dilly-dallying, ignoring the urge to _play_ with her.

It almost _hurt_ to bend his cock down, but he did so feverishly, quickly inspecting the Sculpture's tight, _puckered_ hole. It, too, was leaking that same substance as the Queen's portal. He smirked, chortling as he lined his cock up to it - pressing his tip against her - prodding and _poking_ and _loosening_ her up. But _there it was again_ \- her breath, hitched, in shock, _scared_. The fact he had this power over her - this domineering and sheer _ruling_ over her body, well…

It got to him. Pierced him deeper than any sane pleasure would. There was nothing like making the murderer of a thousand men, once a cold, unfeeling _golem_ , feel fear. He let his tongue hang out as he kept his gaze on her, dragging it from the nape of her neck to her ear, _nibbling_ at the lobe. She _whimpered_. So quiet and shrill it was, but he continued. D-9341 couldn't even fucking _think_ of a word to say - so he let his body do the talking.

He pushed. And pushed. And _pushed_ against the veil of the Sculpture, until she _failed_. Until she let him in, fully and completely. Until her anus _squeezed_ him with crushing pressure, betraying her. Then, he pulled out - leaving just his tip in, and _slammed_ back in, crotch to her ass - sending a jelly-like quake throughout her entire frozen body. And then, despite his cock already surrendering to the tightness, already _spurting_ buckets of cum in her ass, he pulled back.

And fucked. And fucked, and _fucked_ , feeling her juices continue to flow - wetting the floor beneath them in a small puddle, her cunt _jetting_ out wave after wave of that orgasmic, sweet fluid. Getting a better grip, he locked his arms around her armpits, clasping at the back of her head. Eyes still locked on, pace speeding, he brought his nose to her, and breathed her scent in - _erupting cum_ again as that earthy, saccharine odour hit his nose. It sent a shiver down his spine, tickling every hair on his body - making his skin speckle with fucking _goosebumps_.

And, eyes drying, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the sheer pleasurable _overload_ , sure that his testicles were now _drained_ , he pulled out with a groan, yelling in pleasure, falling back on his rear. He pedalled back, catching his breath, and blinked, quickly. Her position - her stance - changed.

She was closer to the floor - and her tits still shook with an audible jiggle - but he heard a _squelching_ sound - a spurt of cum having slipped from her ass, streaking on the floor. Her face was scrunched up - cheeks a _dark_ red, tears now freely flowing, but _smiling_ , as well. He could only smirk, seeing her hands reaching out, a clear and righteous fury lit in her eyes.

D-9341 stood himself up, and circled back again, bringing his hand down upon her crouched ass, slapping wildly until he felt his cock _jitter_ with more seed - hitting her toned back and hair. He continued slapping her ass until it matched the colour of her cheeks, an angry, pulsing red. He went round to her front again, and noticed her cute mouth was still nailed shut - her eyes following his every move. He smiled to her, feeling she knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do.

Not finding a position well enough to fuck her, he stood back, lower to the ground this time, and beckoned her, with a "come hither" motion. With one blink, she was on all fours - _just_ out of reach of him - scaring him again with that _murderous_ look she had in her eyes. _Good_ , he thought. He went round back once more, and, resisting the urge to abuse her tight, jizz-pouring asshole again, he parted her cheeks once more.

She _hitched_ again. Her pussy was less guarded, more easily accepting of his man-meat. _Too easy_. But the dissatisfaction of the struggle proved little to hinder him - he continued, cumming again and again as that warmth _hugged_ his dong. He took grip of her wide hips, and glued his eyes to the back of her head, thrusting in her again. Her pussy was more receptive, more _inviting_ than her asshole was - milking him in rhythm for every drop of cum his cursed balls could churn out.

Every nerve in his body sparked with pleasured, beleaguered _joy_. Sweat poured down his tired human frame, cooling him quickly in the air-cycled halls of the site. His mind ignored the fresh dead around him - not noticing they'd disappeared with the Queen's entry. And with his conviction, his fate _sealed_ , he dedicated his seed, his sex, and his body to that mysterious figure - crying out with every load spent, every _drip_ of semen unloaded into the waiting womb of the womanly Sculpture.

Hours passed until he was done. Until the Sculpture began to _swell_ with his seed - spurting out more and more as she scraped her way towards him, until her poses became more and more _ragged_. It was hours of non-stop fucking, cumming, _marking_ the SCP with his seed, until her expression changed. First, from rage to fear, as she tried to leave him. That pose became his favourite, actually - her _lying_ on the ground, a trail of hot white baby batter smeared across the floor - as her tits crashed into the floor.

She had one hand out - the other pulling herself along. So much beautiful, horrified emotion, contained in a single, still pose. But he followed her. Came again, and again, and again, until her holes gave him no resistance. Until _his_ screams of pleasure filled the halls of the Foundation's site. He followed her, flipping her heavy form and spilling his hot goo onto her crying face.

And then - at that moment, with one more blink - she began to follow him. That rage _broke_. That fear, replaced with _want, need, and lust_. It was then he knew she had crumbled - shattered like the stone she had been cut from, just hours ago. And it was then the lights flickered - was then that _tear_ appeared in the air again, faster this time. His heart nearly _burst_ with a sickening love as his goddess, Queen, and _Imperatrix_ appeared from the portal, slickened with… _Something._

"My," she mewled, licking her fingers of the wetness, "you're _efficient_. Good."

She towered over the Sculpture - and it's eyes _glued_ to her, shaking in fear. The Queen simpered at the SCP, brushing the cum-stained locks from her face, cupping her cheek with one hand, and _cooed_.

And then, she _blinked_.

SCP-173's hands were around the neck of the Queen, gripping her nubile skin with ferocious force. D-9341 swore he could've seen the Sculpture's lip _tremble_ in fear, with the knowledge it had failed to kill this being. But the Queen kept smiling, easily prying the SCP's fingers off herself.

"You shouldn't have done that."

The Imperatrix brought just one finger to the Sculpture's forehead. And then, D-9341 saw it _shake_ , for real. It quivered, jittered, and spasmed, until it was _heaving and panting_ and breathing! _Breathing!_ It continued fidgeting and jiggling and squirming until it opened it's mouth. Then, D-9341 witnessed the discharge, coming from the SCP's abused cunt. The Queen was making her _cum_.

The Queen was making her cum with such frenzying fucking _fire_ , that SCP-173 was _moving_. Whatever filthy joy he took from making the thing _fear_ him, was eclipsed by the Queen's wonderful power. It brought and breathed such a _life_ into this unfeeling thing - until it's jaw opened with a sickening, silent scream.

It continued cumming, spraying it's juices on every damn tile beneath it, until the Queen retracted her hand. And then, it _moved._ It moved its arms down, first to it's own face, and then, it _walked_. It stumbled into the Queen's arms, smashing it's tits against hers, _his cum_ smearing between them, and _cried_.

"There, there, child. You will be loved, and love the same," the Queen's voice assured her - a dark smile creeping to her lips as she stroked the crying woman's back, then ushering her into the portal's maw. It didn't close yet, but the Queen brought her attention back to her newly ordained vassal.

"Your use of my gift is… Pleasing. Yet still more creatures lurk, hunting. You will be _their_ hunter."

She took a bare-footed step towards him, ignoring his spent seed and the tortured SCP's juices on the cold floor. He froze again, eyes starry and wide. And he accepted her next kiss, and the knowledge she imparted with it. His dick shook with glee as she made contact with him again, rendering his mind to _mush_. But through her embrace, her wet, dripping kiss, he was whispered to, once more.

A thousand whispers, plus one more - a name on their lips.

 _His name_.


	2. Black & White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the D-Class discovers a hole in the wall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment on this if you like it (or if you don't, lmao)

_Black. White._

The alarms began to fade into his mind. Sharp, electronic, distorted noises playing over the intercom. _Blaring_. He had to stop running - had to get a _hold_ of himself. He had to think on who the _fuck_ that lady, that _goddess_ was. How did she know his name? His real, true name? How did she make him _remember_ things? How the fuck had she changed him, and where the _hell_ was he meant to go?

He shook his head, grinning as his own name came back to him. _Benjamin. Benjamin Oliver Walker._ More memories, fragments. Flashes still, but more pieces. He was beginning to assemble them in his head, slowly forming a timeline - a chaotic spiral that might've given him insight as to how he came to be at the site. Yet still, even with this second boon, he couldn't ignore that building heat in his body - that urge to _fuck_.

Where there was silence, a spare space for idle thoughts in his mind - they were of the Sculpture. Of a _hole_ , to annihilate - a dumping ground for his wild seed. It was this urge, this thought and this _rut_ that drove him now. Before departing from that square, he returned to the top walkway, securing his jumpsuit. Empowered by his feelings of lust, He tore out a pocket, and strapped it to his thigh with another strip of cloth from the suit.

High-visibility and decency be damned - if he was going to traverse through hell itself, at the behest of the Imperatrix - then he'd do it as naked as the day he was born!

Collecting the keycard he had previously, he looted a few things more - a half-eaten bag of chips, a crushed water bottle, and a belt he'd seen laying on the ground - all from where the bodies used to be. Where they'd been before the _Queen_ took them away, to god knows where. Benjamin, or "Ben", as he started calling himself, darted down a curved path to a carpeted office block.

Ah, _good_. More blood. More black, corrosive, bubbling _shit_ on the walls. No bodies, however. The lights seemed to shine brighter here - the humming buzz hitting Ben's ears in _just_ the wrong way. The air was the only reprieve from the onslaught of sensory dulling - tinged with the faint scent of sexual fluids, still as strong as they were when he was pleasuring 173. At the end of the hall sat an armoured door, locked tight - and two rooms either side, both with windows.

One was shattered - point of impact lined with darkened, filthy blood - and the other was spotless. He looked closer, past a smear of that caustic cream - and saw another SCP - or rather, it's page, on the room with the unbroken window. 1162 - the hole in the wall. Designation; _Euclid._ He scoffed at it, eyes darting past the room quickly, and skittered to the end of the hall, mashing his card against the reader.

It errored out, blaring with an angry noise, until he stopped. Sighing, kicking the door, he turned around, and weighed his options. As he took just one step towards the broken-glass room, his mind flashed with a thought.

 _Danger_. _Death_. _Grey_.

He skidded back a step and shivered in fear - not knowing what caused that reaction - catching his breath. Ben then looked back at the SCP's room, and sighed, darting his gaze about for any and all stalkers.

Seeing none - he forced his card against that door's reader, and got in. Quickly locking it behind himself, his breath caught in his throat - and he sputtered at the peculiar thing in front of him. The room looked like any other office, complete with desks and a nearby station with tubes, clipboards and computers - no doubt for recording what the _hell_ the hole in the wall did, but…

There was no hole in the wall.

Correction - if he thought about it, in a way - there were now _two_ holes in the wall. Stacked atop the other, contained neatly in the package of a squirming, athletic ass. Squashed against sad ass were two thick thighs, toned to perfection - trying desperately to pull and tug away from its position in the cement. All that movement - that _trapped_ writhing, energised him like SCP-173 had done prior.

Guided by his ghoulies, he strode forward, noticing a nearby document explaining the anomalous thing before him. With one hand already gliding over the stuck creature's ass, his dick hot-dogging her thick cheeks, he perused the paper in hand. As he skimmed over it's contents - more and more of it became clear, like he'd seen it, or heard of it before. He knew of its original property - finding things which had once been deemed lost, in exchange for an item on the possession of the tester.

He mused, focussing his ears on the keen, quiet moans that came from that wall - dragging his thumb to circle around the being's asshole. It _shrieked_ , though muffled, and he chuckled, tossing the paper aside. His grip was noticeably softer, kinder than his encounter with the Sculpture - but he couldn't quite figure out why that was. Perhaps it was because this unfortunate thing had _just_ been granted sentience? All it knew, was either the other side of that wall, or the darkness in between - and _all_ it could feel was a veiny prick, sawing between it's newly found asscheeks.

The least he could do was be gentle.

But Ben wasted no time - as with 173, he slid his already-dribbling cock into the folds of the womanly creature, moaning loudly with that complete _sheathe._ He had to catch his breath halfway through, not expecting the pleasure to envelop him so _quickly_ , so easily. But, nonetheless, he picked his pace up - inspired by the muted moans coming from the wall - fucking her.

He tried his best, his very _hardest_ not to cum immediately, but ultimately failed as 1162's cunt clamped tight around him, undulating his entire length, as if edging every bit of blood it could to keep him _erect_. And then he felt himself slip again - a frenzy oncoming as he recognised the _submission_ of the beast before him. He got quicker, the slaps of his crotch echoing off the butt of the battened babe. He got _harder_ \- those clapping slaps getting louder and louder, and he got _rougher._ His fingers dug into her hips, and her ass - thumb slipping quickly inside her unprotected asshole.

If her sudden contraction - her sudden _constriction_ gave away anything - she'd just orgasmed, her thighs jiggling as her body shook, as best it could. That only energised him further - spurring on _rougher_ and _rougher_ strokes, thrusts. In the midst of it, Ben reached for a nearby marker, and bit the cap off, marking the SCP's flesh.

"If no one's around to claim you..." he joked, slapping her ass, disappointed that it's jiggle did not compare to that of the Sculpture's. He brought pen to flesh, and wrote to his heart's content.

_Property of BEN_

_CUMDUMP_

_SPLIT ME_

_FUCK-MEAT_

_LOAD COUNT - PUSSY - III_

_LOAD COUNT - ASSHOLE -_

Taking inspiration from himself, he pulled out of her pussy, head _swimming_ at the sheer amount of jizz he'd loaded into the being's womb, and teased her asshole, kissing his tip to her puckered entrance. Stroking his cock, lubricating it evenly with his own baby batter and 1162's pussy-juice, he slipped _right_ in, growling with relief. His rut temporarily abated, he thrust at his leisure, quickening again as his balls _churned_ and _rumbled_ , expanding.

_Plap, plap plap..._

Her moans, though choked still, got _louder_. She must've had a penchant for anal, he mused - a penchant which he was more than willing to indulge. Ignoring the brief flicker of the lights, and the dying of the alarm around him, he thrust wildly, hips like a piston. A piston built for _breaking_ , _loving_ , _fucking_. His testes slapped against the cum-spilling pussy of 1162, battering her, squirting just a _little_ bit more cum out of her with each thrust.

_Slap, slap, slap…_

He continued until he felt his dick _hit_ something - tip pressing against some smooth, foreign object, wedged deep inside the SCP. Quickly slipping himself out, he inspected the gaping, freshly-fucked hole of the hole-in-the-wall, marvelling at his own work. He stroked the small of her back as she tensed, and relaxed - the object _just_ poking out of her. Ben chuckled as he retrieved the item, marvelling at his luck - and at the little _movements_ 1162 made as she came again, spilling more of his seed onto the floor. Though wrought with his own warm cum, he recognised it as a keycard - a head scientists' keycard!

It was marked for containment of Keter-class SCPs, which significantly increased his exploration range of the chaos-struck site. Blushing, _filled_ with a thankful spirit, Ben brought a wet, splooge-soaked hand down upon 1162's ass, slipping his cock _right_ back inside her. He brought his forehead to rest against the cool concrete, mumbling growling "thank yous". Being sure to keep track of his progress, his mark _burned_ again at the sign of conquest - invigorating him just like it did for 173.

So, with renewed vigor, with the intent of _thanking_ this helpful, _greedy_ little set of holes, well…

He _fucked_ , as the Queen commanded. And _came_. And _came_ , much like he did last time. Came so _much_ and so _quickly_ that he found himself getting light-headed, only to have his mark _burn_ him to keep going. He made a new tally - finding clear spaces on the thigh of 1162 - "SLUT ORGASM COUNT - 卌 卌".

He didn't quite notice how ridiculous he looked until he felt a gentle wetness pooling to his _ankles._ He didn't notice until 1162's cries became so _loud_ that he could hear them clearly through the wall. _Words_ were forming in his ears. He didn't notice until pulling out of one of the hole's holes _spurted_ cum back at him, like popping the cork off a champagne bottle.

The Ben he knew just hours ago would've been _repulsed_ at the sight of his own chest and crotch getting blasted back with his semen. Well, _D-9341_ would've been. Now, he revelled in it as a job _half-finished_ , but well started. He could hear 1162's voice getting _weaker_ \- begging for him to stop in that pleading tone. But the _Imperatrix_ filled his ears - as if she were right behind him, _encouraging him_. _Cum_ , she said. _Cum, then cum again, then cum some more!_

_Cum until this whore_ _**breaks.** _

And so, ears filled with those rough-throated moans, the chorus of slaps, and the delicious _spurt_ and _squelch_ of his swimmers, firing out the abused holes of the SCP, he ejaculated. Dumped his fat fucking load into the asshole and cunt of the stuck creature. Pounded her with a brilliant, loving force, inspired by the Queen of the Whores herself.

When he was done, much to his blurry-eyed surprise, and to the weakened _joy_ of his lover, their combined sexual fluids had pooled halfway up his shins. The room _reeked_ of their coupling - sweat and spit and that slight office scent of carpet freshener _dwarfed_ by the quadrillions of sperm swimming in that room. It was _disgusting_ to him - so wonderfully _disgusting_ , like a tribute to the Imperatrix herself.

With one final, _ear-piercing_ roar, he slipped out of her, spurting a final load onto her back - cum marring the ink of the markers. When done, her displayed body was barely recognisable - pale pink flesh mixed with pearly white _goo_ , and blackened streaks, dripping down onto the floor. Her final tally read as such;

_LOAD COUNT - PUSSY - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌_

_LOAD COUNT - ASSHOLE - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌_

_SLUT ORGASM COUNT - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌_

He had to rest against a wall to catch his breath - ignoring the flicker of the lights - the attention of the site's cameras upon him. And Ben beamed, as that red portal appeared again - almost tearing through the air in an instant. His mind was clouded with the vision of _her_ , too occupied _oogling_ to notice his own fucking torrent of cum, deposited into the SCP, and onto the ground. As _she_ stepped out again, biting her bottom lip, _giddy_ with excitement, she blew him another kiss.

"Another. So _quick_ , my hunter! So… _Thorough…"_ her gloriously smooth hands roamed mesmerizingly across the impossible curves of her body at the sight at her feet - and of the cum-blasted hole in the wall. She shifted her gaze to Ben with a loving look - pride and _lust_ and _adoration_ , which all quickly shifted to horror.

A blackness - a stark and clear contrast to the white of his seed - had appeared behind him. And, in the middle of it - a _face_ , stuck in a ghoulish grin.

Before he could inquire about what troubled his Queen so vividly, he was gone from this dimension.


	3. A Decayed Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ben fights his way out of the Pocket Dimension...

_Black._

Before he was stripped away, so rudely ripped apart from his Queen - he felt her kiss hit him. More of her loving, guiding embrace had swirled around him, _penetrated him_. Before Ben was submerged into utter darkness, that _sheer_ and unfeeling black limbo, he felt himself be _dynamised_. _For the Queen_ , he repeated, as he felt his body be _enveloped_ by that putrid, midnight oil. The D-Class shut his eyes tight, and held a breath as he transitioned - warped to a reality, unbound by the laws of our own.

A void. A pale, dark stone nexus, lit only by the faintest of green lights. His naked feet landed on cold, black, _jagged_ rock - making him inhale sharply. And at that moment - as the funk of a thousand tortured corpses filled his nostrils, his _mouth_ , he damn near _vomited_. This was a _tomb_ \- one unkempt and unmanaged. He took cautious steps forward, feeling as if the very world was slowly _breathing_ , shifting around him. Ben didn't _dare_ look down - for his thin strip of stone might've disappeared beneath him.

He heard a laugh when that thought appeared in his mind. A knowing laugh. A putridly bloated and sickly, sugary laugh. More of a _beast_ exhaling or snorting than a laugh. It worked at just the right tone and volume to _unnerve_ him. For he knew _something_ was out there - hidden on the precipice of his sight - but he didn't know exactly where it dwelt. He continued his trapeze-walk to the central structure of this realm - an ancient, collapsed spire - pricked with millions of stone shards.

Being here _tingled._ He couldn't help but remain swollen, cock still priming itself with sticky seed - despite his mounting fears.

And as he pressed on - found himself in a _labyrinth_ , he found himself being led. It wasn't by the Queen, he was sure this realm was too far out of her influence - and it wasn't by the being that called it "home", either. He'd… _Been_ here before. At every turn, every corner - he felt his mind correct himself - _not that one, no - that one_. He eventually came to his fifth or sixth 4-way intersection, and stopped. He was being watched. Not only that - _followed, too_. Like that _thing_ that had taken him, the laughing creature, was walking circles around him.

That decayed, inexorable march was unmistakable.

And his next intersection felt _wrong_. That feeling of deja vu came over him. Left led to death. A sheer drop, then to a… Walk? Whatever it was, he just _felt_ that he wouldn't come back from it. Right led to another walkway with swinging pendulums - an animate… Coffin? It shook him to his core, even just thinking on what the fuck that meant. _Straight_ …

He hadn't gone straight. Well - he hadn't gone _anywhere_ yet, he was sure - but straight was a blank path. The only logical choice. Swallowing the shaking feeling in his heart - the trembling in his body, and the sheer amount of _sweat_ pouring down his frame, Benjamin pressed on. Were it any other rat-trap, he would've held his hand to the side to help orientate and ground himself, but his body warned him against it. _Caustic_. _Walls dripping with… Something._ The straight path twisted and breathed and curved and warped, whistling and rending his balance inert. He dared not fall - for he felt the _breath_ of the being on his neck - the stench of corpses momentarily abated by a vile, puerile caramel.

 _Go_ , he urged himself, ignoring the building warning in his body. _Go_ , he chanted, as the hallway began to straight itself out - another room being revealed. _Go_ , he choked, finally arriving somewhere _worse_.

He stopped.

That funk - of ghouls and garish gangrene, of corrupted, cold corpses, _still writhing and breathing_ , of sweet and _sick_ sugar, returned in force. Then he noticed the boxes. Wooden, hovering - some still fucking _kicking_ , shifting. Impossibly large. His feet continued of their own accord - as if intrigued, morbidly curious. A box _breathed_. So he backed away - clutching a hand to his chest, feeling more like _prey_ than ever before. Benjamin could barely even comprehend the size of this mausoleum, let alone the fact that some of this _things_ victim's were still alive - even barely - still at the _mercy_ of it.

How long had it been hunting? How did he know what _it was?_ His eyes flashed with it's image before he _screamed_ , backing into something wet, solid, and _laughing_.

 _Oh no_. _Oh dear god above, no_.

This was _it's_ realm. Of course. Of course he "knew" where to go - it was _influencing_ him, cornering him into a path it wanted. He just _had_ to be the guy to back into the laughing, demonic, pocket-dimension-controlling _thing_ that had a fancy for the flaying of _flesh_. It _wanted_ him to see this - to lose all hope before he surrendered to the infinite coffins before him. As his back made contact with _it_ , he expected to be burnt - flesh _boiled_ and melted like the markings he'd seen across the whole site.

He winced as he felt that oozing blackness pour over him - dripping a slick, slimy wetness over his naked body. And had to hold back a _moan_. Even the creature behind him paused in it's devilish laughter, just as confused as he was. It was like the fearful, tingling ambience of the dimension itself - but localised, and a _billion_ times more intense. It pricked at every nerve with tender and caring _kisses_ , only continuing it's path downwards - flowing across his rear.

Naturally, once the oily, sludgey black _mess_ worked it's way, tingling his asshole a tad, he came. Benjamin never thought he'd live to see the day where he'd witness a fucking burial site, only to cum _seconds_ later. This breach was messing with him. Or some sick god, like the Queen, or this _thing_ behind him were. Adrenaline quickly filtered out the serotonin and oxytocin in his brain, replacing that post-orgasmic high with a fear-boner.

 _Right_ , he remembered. _It._

Benjamin rationalised that nothing could've prepared him for whatever horror of the black abyss controlled the dimension he now occupied, so he turned. A _whip_ went the black liquid clinging to him, as he spun in place, coming face to face with the domitor of this _nightmare_. _Show me that evil smile of yours, you sick fuck,_ he gritted his teeth, sucking in a harsh breath.

And he was greeted by a black beauty. Truly, black to her _core_ \- even it's open-mouthed, dumbfounded expression revealed black insides - everything about it _dripping_ with that sick, slick goo. Benjamin looked lower, expecting and noticing, _yep,_ another female form. Two breasts, peaked with puckered piceous nipples, _leaking_ more onyx runoff. Wide hips - reflecting the dull green light, and a distinct _mons_. Before he could continue his suspiciously thorough report of the black being, he was struck.

More _pawed_ at, but struck nonetheless. The creature appeared confused, as if it meant to go _through_ him, and it became even _more_ confused as more cum erupted from his dick at that tingling sensation - that slap of tar to his breast. Even in the midst of a dimension she had no control over, Benjamin _marvelled_ at the Queen's pull, and her sheer dominance over his sex drive. Even now her mark burned bright - emanating a lustful red aura around them, combating the dull green.

Still - with that sudden onslaught of a hot goo slap from the beast of the dark beyond, he had to brace himself. His legs went _weak_ and jelly-like with that orgasm, with the sensation of a billion ebony tongues just _barely_ tickling his skin, in all the right places. He held onto the creature, hands on it's shoulders, finding them surprisingly soft. And he _came_ again - not realising how much of that stuff she had just _sitting_ on her. So, struggling for more support, he brought his chest to hers, and came some more, almost in _pain_ at how much cum _wanted_ to spurt from his cock.

It just kept coming, like his previous session with 1162. It didn't stop - and made the master of nightmares _recoil_ in quiet shock. Clearly, she was not used to hyperspermia. Though - to be fair, he thought - neither was _he_. She attempted to push him off, but found him too hard - not _mushy_ enough like the others she had hunted, brought to her realm. His flesh didn't slough, didn't burn, blister, _or_ boil with but a touch. It _stayed._ And got _harder_. And poured forth this _white_ matter, so contrastingly set against her dark universe. _Odd_.

He didn't stop there. The Queen's very influence sought to penetrate this dimension - a horny crimson spark descending or ascending to their platform, which was being separated from the tomb room. Her kiss touched his mark, and his mark _animated_ him. Jittering, trying to rein control over his climaxing self, Benjamin took grip of the old woman's face, biting on his bottom lip, and made her face him with those _dark, dark_ eyes.

He then slid himself, oh so awkwardly, into her folds - bringing crotch to crotch, abs to dripping black abs, chest to goo-dripping _tits_. And he saw her vile, animalistic and hunting expression _change_. Her jaw dropped as she found herself leaking _more_ of her material - her corrosive sludge, now _tingle-goo_ , at that _sensation_. And Benjamin _smiled_ , confident in his next victory.

Time slowed. By her hand, he was sure of that much. Perhaps it was to savour the moment of this newfound pleasure indefinitely - or perhaps it was to devise a plan on how to torture him appropriately. Benjamin continued in spite, though with diminished spirit, as _every_ inch of his skin could be felt _tingling_ against that black mass, bit by bit. There was no sense or pattern to it - rendering his weak legs _weaker_ with every unexpected orgasm - every _jet_ of cum he fired into the being before him. He struggled to make out her facial features, but found at least her lips, thick and full, _begging_ for a sloppy kiss.

So, with the burn of his mark, he embraced her. Peered into the abyss that was the old woman's eyes, and watched it _stare right back_. It was warm, lighting his mouth with the same sensations he'd been feeling all over, and he could tell with every movement against her that she was still _stunned_ , still processing this information over the course of the _hours_ it took to smooch her. Over those hours, he managed to trace his tongue over those leaking lips, quivering and shivering as that goo entered his mouth. _Sweet_ , he thought. _So very sweet_.

It took at least a day for her to move - to change her expression from shocked to what he could only describe as _excited_. And it was one that sent his already-jerking dick into overdrive, still sawing against her jilling insides. Each thrust took about a minute to complete - but she _growled_ in quiet pleasure with the movement, the _parting_ of herself, and the molten warmth of his _white_ in her _black_. He found her extending _something_ \- _right, her tongue_ \- back into his mouth, dripping more of that darkness inside him. He froze for a second - now about 40 minutes, expecting the mark to wear off, to have his insides _boiled_ by the obsidian flow.

But, he still stood. And felt that sweetness stimulate him. _Charge_ him by virtue of having made her _produce_ it. And continued fucking, for hours unto days, days unto weeks, and…

He only stopped after that when he noticed a change in the composition of the morbid realm. Dull green and black were giving way to red and white. Grey. Grey was mixing into the sky, and red light dawned from all around them - giving way to the horror, breathing in _change_ to this still wasteland. Benjamin took a second to crane his head down, trying to regain a sense or two, only to discover his cum _spilling_ silly from the bloated belly of the beast. 40 seconds later, and he was looking back at her expression - jaw still dropped, head thrown back in agonising pleasure, as her breasts began to _squirt_ that black goo over him still.

He looked back down, noticing their platform was running off with the efforts of their embrace - the fruits of their carnal labour. _So much_ , he thought, head a painful, pleasured mess, swimming in the rapture of physical delight, _so much fucking cum_. Lest he be unable to dominate this creature like he had 173 and 1162, maybe he could flood her realm? Benjamin felt the need to slap himself in the face after thinking of that plan - _flooding this place with cum? What are you, a fucking idiot?_

With a shake of his head, he continued his slow, laboured thrusts, sending one more look to the pleasure-ridden abomination. Then, he resigned himself to this position - not noticing the red tendrils surrounding them both - face set in a grim line as he focused on the Queen. On _cumming_ , on that pleasure which allowed him to reach such orgasmic heights, and _nothing_ else. _Go, go, go,_ he pressured himself, feeling the veins in his neck press against his skin as he began the week-long process of pulling his cock free. He was expecting time to react appropriately after he'd released himself from those onyx folds, but still found his movements sluggish - the creature's mind still _warped_ with transcendent bliss.

He scuttled around it - taking another _two weeks_ of his time, and took grip of the oily hips of the old woman. Benjamin pushed her back down, forcing her to bend over - and yanked one of her arms backwards, arching so that her tits would _pop_ forward better. With his new leverage, and without pause, he fumbled his squirting meat inside the tight ass of this dimension's mistress.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought. _So fucking tight_. So much cum wanted to pour from him still - and the creature's hole helped him _none_. She was already _full_ , but he made her _fuller_. As her pussy began spurting his sperm out on that _already_ wettened platform, he occupied her ass. Controlled her from the inside - made the _black_ his _white_. It became almost _painful_ , and he mused that if time were set normally, if he didn't have the ooze to thank for another sensation, he'd be in shock from the pain.

She looked back at him, and for a minute, a second, he paused. He was past fear. The sky was grey now - and that crack of energy that had _pierced_ the being's dimension had taken shape. With him, it _thrusted_ , flaring and furious. So Benjamin harnessed the rage as he did with the Statue, and, to the Old Woman's apparent joy, _resumed_. The murderer most foul, the almost-eldritch being that had sent so many to _suffer_ for so long, cracked a loony smile at him.

That would not do. Like the Statue, he would fuck this _mockery_ of a human being with a vengeance, until she hated it, and then, until she _loved it again_. Sawing in and out, just as the Queen's spark did, he violated her. Ruined her black, dripping asshole and _swelled_ her over and over again. She didn't know the sensation she felt, but it was wonderful, and _horrifying_. Making her convulse, making her lost control even inside her own dimension. Even as she attempted to fight back - first physically, then, temporally - she found herself at _his_ mercy. Time skipped, started, restarted, and fast-forwarded at shocking intervals, as 106 struck out, faltering.

This was no longer her realm. It was _theirs_. The Queen and her King. The Red and White.

Her face fell, and Benjamin sung, just _wishing_ he could slow time - for one final, rough, reverberating, catastrophic thrust. And for it's beginning, he found himself almost _stuck_. It took long, _too_ long almost, but he could tell he was moving now - looking straight down at the stretched hole of the SCP. Her back slicked with that obsidian ooze like _sweat_ , beading down in buckets. His cock was stained with the stuff, streaking black amidst his white cum, inches disappearing in _weeks_.

The platform they found themselves on was saturated, he noted. And the realm around them had lost it's faint green glow - replaced by a lovely, pulsing red. The spark, high in those skies, cracked the world around it, parting the miasma of suffering and isolation without struggle anymore. Whiteness _gushed_ from the black and red, trickling down to the abyss' apparent _floor_ , pooling like it had done with 1162. Like violent, rushing waterfalls, that slick cream spurted as if in time with the Old Woman's orifices - her pussy _still_ leaking it. As it had done for a _year_ now.

With a final, stretched, _howling_ roar, Benjamin bottomed himself inside the buxom beast. Balls pressing against her thick, tingling ass, _firing_ his sperm inside her _realm_ , he finished her. And, having fought against her convulsions, against the sheer _violation_ she felt at her realm being torn from her grasp, she fell off him as he let her go. Splattering against the cum-drenched stone floor, panting, looking as every bit a used _whore_ as the Statue, she could only look to the sky.

Benjamin mused that she would've _cried_ , should the creature have been equipped with one modicum of humility. But he settled for her defeat, standing proudly, panting and _cumming_ still over her twitching, orgasming form. His hate remained, but he tempered it with pride, grinning at her - at the _fear_ she made him and so many other victims feel, turned against her now.

"Kneel," he commanded her. Knowing she could understand him. Her eyes opened wide, those soulless black pits now holding _scorn_ for him, mixed with that wondrous, horny haze.

Working with the strength of hundreds of tortured souls, those who had taken the wrong step into darkness and found themselves under her _eye_ , under the phantom's thumb and whim, he picked her up.

Lifting her by the throat, to her shaky feet, he neared her, bringing his eyes to hers. "Kneel."

He let go of her throat, grinning wider as she backed away from him, almost falling again, slipping in his essence. And, after hours of deliberation, eyeing him like a prey might a predator, she obeyed. 106, former lord and torturer supreme of his own pocket dimension, was _brought to pay for his sins_. Disgraced in her very own pleasure-pocket, brought to her knees on the defiled altar of _wrong_ she had cultivated for ages past, she looked _down_ , daring not to meet her new lord's gaze.

She could hear him again. Flesh on wet flesh. Hand pumping his meat - that which had invaded and penetrated her, delivered unto her the boiling whiteness she felt _stirring_ inside her now - that made her _jitter_ and _cum_ still, making more of her decaying blackness _ooze_.

"Look at me," Ben commanded. And so she obeyed.

"Open your mouth."

"Taste me. Taste your insides, you _bitch_."

As she hesitated, he brought one hand behind her head, and forced her on his length - securing her mouth just around his tip, ensuring she could feel the tingling on her taste buds. Not only _him_ , not only how her ass and pussy tasted, but her _recompense_ as well. Her sweet, salty, hot and _thick_ recompense. The Old Woman could only look back down at herself as she swallowed, pussy _weeping_ again as she spilled more of her darkness onto the floor. For she knew he was not done with her. _She_ was not done with her, the one who had invaded her realm too. They would use her body, make her _love it_ again and again, stuck in bliss eternal.

A tear formed near them, ripping open much easier than it had done back in reality, and Benjamin found himself sweating, covered in a proud mixture of juices, in front of his Queen. A worry was evident on her face, that turned quickly to pride, to _love._ And then, witnessing the fullness of the creature's breaking, it turned to _lust_ , so very naturally.

"You foul, poor thing… I'm afraid your nightmare has only just begun. But you will learn to love it. Or you will break, one thousand-fold," the Queen spoke, stroking the woman next to her - what Ben could only recognise as the former hole-in-the-wall. Only her legs, hips and groin were visible to him - the rest of her body flickering in between the cracks of space. The hole she had previously occupied was gone - leaving them both standing in that sperm-sunk room.

Naturally, Ben appeared shocked, eliciting a giggle from Imperatrix. Like the first wind of summer it was, so warm and _light_ , energising him further.

"My apologies, _Phal_. This little creature must appear something odd to you. If you had my eyes you'd look upon her face and weep, for she is beautiful… Unlike what you have brought before me now."

Ben stepped into the real world, dredging through his own seed, and ordered the Old Woman to follow him. So broken and _bent_ she was, that she took a step outside of her own realm by the beckoning of another, dripping her foul fluids onto the floor.

"Kneel before your Queen," he commanded her once more. He noticed the hesitation in her eyes - the squint as the fluorescent tubes returned in full force, making her _stop_. So, Ben neared her, his mouth to her earlobe.

"Kneel."

Imperatrix was _proud_. Clapping, giggling again, the goddess strode towards 106, so very slowly, inching through the puddles of jizz. Her body glistened in the harsh lighting, illuminating every curve that swung and twisted with each expressed step. And all the torturer could do was _gawk_ , face betraying a quiet _fear_ as she obeyed. For a second, the Queen appeared to think on the idea of making this creature enjoy the scent and taste of her glorious nethers, but stopped herself.

"Tempting though it is to have myself praised until I _sing_ ," she jested, "I don't think you deserve that, Corporal. You do remember your days as Corporal Lawrence, yes?"

The creature _balked_ at her, staring in between 1162, Ben, and back to the goddess. More fear played out on it's stiff, dark features. It tried _fleeing_ back into its own realm, only to be halted by the Queen's pull - a red tether wrapped tightly around her neck.

"Your thoughts are easy to intercept when my _Phal_ is inside you, when his cum permeates your entire physical being… As are your memories," she explained, smiling. Ben mentally noted that quirk of hers down, wondering _just how deeply tied he was to her now_ , and what that would mean if they separated.

The Queen beckoned 1162 to join her side, the phasing, fuzzy limbs hugging _weakly_ at the god's bod. It turned it's flickering head to Ben, as if _blushing_ , and snapped it's gaze back to the judgement-awaiting creature.

"Like the tortured souls you kept in your dark halls, I shall bring you to my light, to my realm. There, as you kept them in boxes, _coffins_ , ladened with the filth of wars and atrocities past, I shall keep you in one the same."

It's jaw dropped. _Punishment_.

Ben's hand gravitated towards his cock as he witnessed this exchange, unable to control himself. He kept his hand waiting, positioned on the SCP's head, damn near _heaving_.

"You will not leave that box until you are _stained_. Until every waking thought in your barbaric, predatory mind is replaced with thoughts of _love_. And then, perhaps, you may join my Phal and I in our love."

With but a _snap_ of the Queen's fingers, the Old Woman was gone. And as her dripping wet head left Ben's grip, he was _smashed_ against the wall by the Queen's body. Her lips were on his, conveying thoughts and emotions to him so _very_ clearly, as her hands gripped tightly around his slickened cock.

Chief among the goddesses' whispers were a few phrases.

" _Your mind is cluttered behind the trickery of another god. A forgetting god. It is hard to make you remember._ _ **But I will.**_ "

" _Until the_ _ **foul creature**_ _is stained, you will feel her insides, wrapped around you. I am sorry."_

" _You are making me stronger. You will be rewarded for such tributes, the suffering quims."_

" _The hole in the wall is glad you found her. She awaits for you, at the end of this. Wants to show you her true face."_

" _I love you."_


End file.
